


My Valentine

by TeaAndATale



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Steggy - Freeform, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9695420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndATale/pseuds/TeaAndATale
Summary: It's always nice to be remembered on Valentine's Day. It's even better to receive a token of affection from a true love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny thing to get you in the Valentine's mood a little early. The second chapter will be posted tomorrow.
> 
> Partially inspired by a real story of a WWII veteran reconnecting with his wartime girlfriend after 70 years apart (seriously how could I have not drawn parallels to Steve and Peggy).

**2013**

 

Peggy awoke to a flower delivery. Big, beautiful, plump red roses. Exactly as glossy catalogues depict them. She counted all the way to twenty four before she gave up to enjoy them. She couldn't remember the last time she received roses. Or flowers of any kind, honestly. Peggy sat up and leant toward the vase that now rested on her bedside table, deeply inhaling the floral aroma.

Who sent her roses? It might have been one of her grandchildren. Or any number of her other relatives. Perhaps even Tony. She lifted a finger to the delicate petals until she managed to fish out an envelope with her name and a pink heart. Curious. Just Peggy. No aunt. Not grandma. Simply Peggy. Very curious indeed.

She took care in opening the envelope, delicately slipping the note from inside.

_I do suspect that you detect I want you to be mine. So here's a clue to prove to you I'd like to be your Valentine._  
_From, your secret admirer._

She felt almost ashamed at the intense flutters in her stomach. She was downright giddy. Who'd imagine she'd be giddy in her nineties? She didn't want to raise her expectations, to set a specific hope, as there were plenty of acceptable senders. Regardless, she knew exactly who she'd like to be behind her flowers. She spent a moment imagining blue eyes meeting hers, strong hands pointing out roses to the florist, even spelling out her name for the delivery slip. The daydream made her blush for the first time in years. She’s a bit more than a grown woman by now, how could she be having schoolgirl fancies?

She shrugged off the fantasy and elected to just enjoy the beauty of a gift of fresh red roses. In days the petals would shrivel and dry, so the time to enjoy was now. At this point in her life, she took nothing for granted and so she would be just as thrilled that a family member remembered her on Valentine's Day.

It started to snow in the early afternoon, big, feathery, endless flakes. Peggy shuffled over to the chair by the window, watching the whitening world outside. It looked beautiful, peaceful, from the warmth of the room. She'd read her card at least a dozen times by now, checking and double-checking that no one signed it. Unfortunately, everything was typed and printed these days, making it impossible for her to guess the sender’s identity by their handwriting. That would be too easy, she supposed. A dead giveaway.

An hour later, a disheveled, damp delivery man carried in a long pink box. He made haphazard apologizes for the lateness, blaming the snow and the long list of further deliveries he had left to make. He hurried off before Peggy could say more than thank you. Inside were a dozen delectable, decorated chocolate-covered strawberries. Her heart quickened at the sight of another note.

_Dark chocolate and fresh strawberries: something bittersweet, just like the story of you and me._  
_From, your secret admirer._

Peggy felt her throat close up. There was really no question now. There was only the matter of when she would hear from the man himself. By now Steve should have known better than to keep her waiting.

When her dinner didn't arrive at its usual time, her suspicions peak. She wasn't a spy for years and years for nothing. And besides, the anticipation was downright killing her. She smiled to herself, suspecting that Steve would not be pleased with her choice of words. She'll have to find another way to express her impatience. It was simply unbearable. He knew better.

Peggy wasn’t too sure what would follow, if anything at all, but she rifled through her beauty products anyway. She remembered the days of carefully applied makeup, impeccable curls she still manages most days. She didn’t mind the simplicity of her current regiment, but she could hardly stand to just sit around so she went to work. She rubbed lotion into her hands and face with care, dabbing just a touch of perfume behind her ear. She even put on one of her more flattering outfits. Comfort outweighed fashion in her old age, but today she felt like taking a little extra effort.

She was reading in bed when there was a knock on her door. Steve stepped in wearing a nice suit, his hair neatly parted and combed as he used to wear it during the war. His brilliant smile on top of all that took her breath away. She'd always been fond of him, particularly in uniform, but she'd never had a chance to see him in a crisp, black suit. And oh, was it a sight to behold.

"I hope I'm not disturbing," Steve said, gesturing to the book still in her hands.

"Not at all. Whitman can wait." Peggy marked her page and set it aside. "I however, have never had the patience for being made to wait."

Steve grinned. "I should have called. I'm still not used to the whole cell phone thing. I would have been here earlier, but the roads are a mess."

Peggy pursed her lips. "I suppose I'll forgive you."

"I hope so. I brought dinner and I'd hate for you to eat alone."

Peggy smiled and walked carefully over to him. Steve quickly extended his arm, leading her to a chair at the little table in her room and she watched as he unloaded his bag. One of the staff members appeared briefly to wheel in a cart full of food. She suspected Steve had some help arranging all this, as she was sure this is against most of the regulations. Steve thanked the woman profusely, earning a bright smile and a coquettish wink, and continued arranging the table, lighting a little tea light candle in the modest centerpiece he brought. When they were alone again Steve made a point of craning his neck to check for any further potential disturbances. Once he was satisfied, he set two glasses on the table. He pressed his index finger to his lips before pulling a flask out of his breast pocket.

“I have been reliably told that I was making a huge mistake in not pairing a wine to dinner,” he said as amber liquid poured out of his flask. “What they don’t seem to realize is that I know you very well, and above all, you Peggy Carter, are a whiskey girl.”

Peggy smiled at him fondly, suddenly transported back into her early twenties, in love with a gentle and thoughtful soldier, one who had seen her get into drinking competitions with their ragtag crew, and come out victorious might it be said, on plenty of occasions.

"Oh bless you darling," she said, inhaling deeply. They grinned conspiratorially and clinked glasses. "I see you've managed to figure out how to send flowers and chocolates."

"I had a little help," Steve admitted sheepishly.

"Oh? Tony?"

"Pepper actually. She also gave me a few suggestions. She's really great."

"She's a wonderful woman. I hope Tony's treating her as well as you're treating me today."

"You know the Starks,” Steve laughed. “Big gestures, no matter the expense."

“Yes, I do know,” she said, swilling the whiskey in her glass. “Well, I quite like the little moments. Dinner and drinks. Or carefully chosen cards and poetry.”

“That Walt Whitman sure had a way with words,” Steve said, seemingly bashful at her hint of a Valentine’s Day from a different lifetime.

“And Steve Rogers sure knows how to make a girl feel young again,” she said and reached her hand to cover his on the table.

Dinner was lovely, definitely more delicious and hearty than she usually had, not that she had much to complain about most days. They talked animatedly about little things: what Steve's been up to, the weather, modern practices Steve detests and those he’s come to enjoy very much. She’d always enjoyed just talking with Steve, spending long nights on watch swapping stories and sharing little secrets. It’s a little strange to have that connection with him again after so many long years without. She knew she would cherish it for as long as she has left.

"How are you feeling, Peg?" Steve asked once he’d cleared the table, and refilled her glass a second time.

"Very well, thank you."

Steve set his own glass away. "Would you care to dance?"

It's not the first time they've danced, but it excited Peggy just the same. "I would love to Steve."

He seemed more adept with his phone this time, easily plugging it into a speaker. When he was happy with the music, he held out his hand. Both of them smiled contentedly at each other. And as Steve held her perfectly against his body, everything else fell away. Peggy immediately noticed that his steps were more confident than she had ever seen.

"Have you been practicing?" she asked.

Steve shook his head. "Muscle memory. Now that I have a frame of reference, this feels right."

It did feel right, Peggy thought. She felt years younger, her heart unburdened while in his arms.

"Steve?" She heard him hum in response above her. "Thank you for remembering me today."

Steve pulled back a little to get a better look at her. "Of course," he vowed. "Gotta take care of my best girl on Valentine's Day."

She pressed her head against his broad chest. A song she didn't recognize floated through the room. It wasn’t one of their staple classics.

"I don't know this song," she said.

"It's fairly new. And not just for me. I hope you don't mind. I heard it and well, I wanted to dance to it with you."

Peggy listened to the song carefully, as they swayed. It was perfect. Beautiful. A little bittersweet. And the fact that it made Steve think of her made her eyes well up.

" _My Valentine_ ," Steve breathed into her ear, in sync with the song just as it trailed off.

Peggy titled her head up toward his, eyes boring into his. He leaned down and slowly pressed his lips gently on hers. And then they continued to sway, snow billowing, flame still flickering, reclaiming time that was lost.

 

_“She said that someday soon_  
_The sun is gonna shine_  
_And she was right_  
_This love of mine,_  
_My Valentine”_  
_-Paul McCartney, “My Valentine”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's Valentine messages are based on real Valentine's Day cards from the 1930s and 1940s and very much so inspired this fic. I'll post them to my tumblr if you'd like to see them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!

**1944**

 

When Peggy bought the ridiculous card a few weeks back, with a vague notion of giving it to Steve, she hadn't anticipated she'd actually even see him on Valentine's Day. She wasn’t even entirely sure why she ended up purchasing the campy card. Admittedly, she’s never been short of prospective sweethearts bestowing her with little gifts in order to gain her affection for the occasion, but it had never felt like it did with Steve. She certainly never felt compelled to give a man a valentine. But the card made her smile and in her dismal line of work, she took every amusement as it came. And she was certain Steve would find the silly card just as enjoyable.

The Commandos were in London on a short leave, one allowing for General Eisenhower to meet with Captain America, solidifying tactics on a new Allied effort on the continent. Just the previous day, she had accompanied Colonel Phillips to several meetings at the new Control Center. The SSR had been pioneering the initiative since its foundation, and the General had taken notice. Peggy watched Steve shake hands with Eisenhower, heard him talk frankly of the conditions out on the front lines, the horrors innocent people of the continent were experiencing. Steve was always the first to remind others that there were real lives at stake, families without mobility, just trying to get by every day.

Peggy watched him stand his ground, steeling her nerve for the bold gesture she wanted to give him. It had been a few weeks since she'd seen him, and listening to the heart behind his words made her resolve solidify to sign and hand deliver that gaudy card. It'd been nearly three months, to her knowledge, since Steve started carrying her picture in his compass. He never mentioned it, nor had she made any reference to it, but she thought it was prime time to reciprocate. And what better time than Valentine's Day?

Peggy carried the card in her breast pocket all morning, over intelligence updates across different desks in the bullpen and mission strategy meetings in the main conference room. The office was particularly buzzing due to Phillips’ initiative on the SSR assisting the precarious situation in Anzio. The atmosphere at Headquarters was likely to change in a matter of minutes as Peggy had come to learn over the years.

It was almost lunchtime when Peggy chanced upon Bucky and Steve loitering suspiciously close to her station.

"Sergeant. Captain." Peggy nodded at both of them.

"Agent Carter," came from Bucky, and quickly followed a little belatedly from Steve.

She had a suspicion they, more likely Steve, wanted to ask her for something. Maybe to ask Phillips for a favor. Or even to be the one to ask Stark for an upgrade. Neither was unusual at this point, and if nothing more, it meant an opportunity to spend time with Steve. Unfortunately, she didn't get a chance to find out what they wanted.

"Agent Carter?” a secretary called from Peggy’s side. “Phillips needs you to join him at his appointment at Bletchley."

"I didn't realize he had an appointment today."

"The call just came in. You two are to leave immediately. The car's outside."

Peggy sighed. "Yes of course. I'll be right along." When the secretary walked away, Peggy turned back to the boys. "You'll have to excuse me gentlemen."

"Of course," Steve said with a nod.

He wasn’t very good at hiding his disappointment, Peggy thought. She turned for her coat and bag.

"Oh Steve?"

Steve immediately perked, squaring his shoulders. "Yes ma'am?"

Peggy pulled the envelope out of her jacket and pressed it into his hand. "Something for you," she said with a sly smile.

For one long indulgent moment, she watched him glance between the envelope and her face. Peggy turned her head back in his direction when she reached the stairwell. Even from there she could spot the pink in his cheeks and the adorably delighted smile. Bucky was smirking behind him. He met her gaze and she was confident that he had read the card’s message. She grinned and started her climb to the street.

_You are hereby ordered to be my Valentine. I'm at attention waiting for your answer!_

 

*

 

Steve had his sketchbook spread out on the table at lunch. He didn't realize he'd been ignoring Bucky or that his coffee had long since gone cold. Ever since Peggy had given him that Valentine that morning, his heart pounded a little stronger than usual. He had been hoping to have lunch with her over the guise of a tactical discussion, wish her a Happy Valentine's Day at the end of it and let that be that. But that would no longer do. He scribbled away, hoping to draw her a really nice Valentine in return, sketching her roses since he couldn't get them for her.

His concentration finally broke when Bucky threw a balled up napkin right between his eyes. Steve expected to be razzed once again by his best friend about his crush.

"You should add a nice poem on the back of that," Bucky said. "Maybe some Whitman."

Steve smiled gratefully at the suggestion. "Thanks Buck." He tapped his pencil trying to remember an appropriate bit of poetry.

“Sure,” Bucky laughed. "Anyway, this is your first real Valentine since elementary school. I can't watch you screw it up."

Steve narrowed his eyes, but continued drawing instead of commenting.

They walked back to Headquarters, Steve still not sure what poem would best express his feelings for Peggy. He wished he had some more experience with giving girls Valentines. Or with girls in general.

"Buck? Remind me what you used to do for Valentine's Day."

Buck sighed happily, a hand held over his heart. "Definitely a card. Flowers or chocolates when I could afford 'em. But love poetry is a must. Even if you got nothing else, it's foolproof. See, either the girl knows about poetry and she finds you oh so romantic and sophisticated, or she has no clue and you get a chance to thoroughly explain the poem to her. Sometimes with practical applications." Bucky's smirk made Steve roll his eyes. “Either way, by the end of the date she’d find out that it wasn’t just my head that was brilliant.”

Steve’s face felt a little warm. He was sure he couldn't pull off Bucky's moves on Peggy. Beautiful, brilliant Peggy. And as far as the evidence showed, Bucky’s tactics would be worthless on her.

Bucky clapped him on the shoulder after a few more minutes of silence. "I can help you pick a poem. Something appropriate," he assured at Steve's hesitation.

A couple hours later, Steve was inking in a little cartoon of himself holding roses and a heart-shaped chocolate box on Peggy's Valentine when Bucky dropped into the seat next to his.

"I figured out the perfect Whitman poem for you to use. I didn't remember it until I borrowed Junior's book of poetry." Bucky recited the eight lines to him and as he spoke Steve could easily picture these words meant specifically for Peggy. "Isn't it perfect? It made me think of the time she came to that bar in that red dress, you know, with eyes only for you."

Steve couldn't help but grin. "This is exactly what I want to say. Thanks Buck, I owe you one."

Bucky grinned proudly. "You only owe me the story. Who knows? Maybe you'll get a chance to go for a drink or something when she gets back."

 

*

 

Steve had been waiting in the bullpen for Peggy for hours, and he was running out of reasonable excuses for still hanging around. He had a strategy meeting with one of Phillips' right hands. Then he spent a long time poring over maps. He even joined Howard in his lab, listening a little too long as Howard talked ad nauseam about the theoretical applications of propulsion technology. Finally there seemed to be activity in the main hall, but Steve only managed a glimpse of brown curls before she and Phillips were steered back into his office.

It was late when Peggy finally managed to head out for the night, just enough time to get some sleep before she had to drag herself back into the office before dawn. It had been a long day, and she dreamed of curling up in bed. She was almost at the stairs when she spotted Steve running to catch up to her.

"What are you still doing here?"

"Waiting for you," he said plainly. He gestured and they continue toward street level, away from the quieter but still busy bullpen. "I never got a chance to say thank you. Or give you your Valentine." Steve handed her the card he made. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Peggy's fingers gingerly held the edges, her face lighting up at the cute cartoon version of Steve. "You made this? It's lovely Steve. Thank you."

Steve rocked on his heels, a hand brushing the back of his neck. "I don't suppose you'd like to join me for a drink?"

Peggy bit her lip. It was utterly tempting. "I shouldn't," she admitted. "I have to be back in a few hours."

Steve only nodded, smile never faltering. He understood that Peggy Carter was a busy and important Agent. But Peggy couldn't stand it. She happened to be in London at the same time as Steve. On Valentine's Day. In the middle of a war that called them both away at a moment’s notice and likely might never bloody end. Who knew when she'd get this chance again?

"One drink.” Her eyes were twinkling.

Steve's entire face broke out in obvious joy, and he followed in step as Peggy led the way.

"I suppose this means you're my Valentine?"

Steve nodded emphatically. "Well ma'am, I was ordered. And I know exactly how to follow an Agent's orders."

This statement made Peggy’s lips quirk up but she bit back her retort. Over a glass of whiskey each, Steve told her about the poem on the card after Peggy read it aloud. She knew some Whitman, she told him, but not this one. The pub was warm, and cheerful and the one drink was perfect. Steve’s incredible luck only improved when Peggy announced that he could walk her home.

They stood facing each other outside on her stoop. Steve knew she had to go in, but he had found it hard to make his feet move.

“I’ve never gotten a Valentine card from a girl before,” Steve confessed.

Peggy raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Steve nodded. “I was really surprised. But I really liked it. A lot. The card you gave me,” he trailed off, feeling dumb and ineloquent.

Peggy hummed in contemplation. “ _‘Some are baffled, but that one is not—that one knows me.’_ ”

She lifted herself on tiptoe. Her hand touched his shoulder and then she pressed a lingering warm kiss to his cheek. Steve was frozen in place. She pulled away to witness his wide eyes and goofy smile. She tilted her head and waited, watching Steve catch up to the moment. He started to lean in, eyelashes fluttering, so she leaned back in to meet his lips halfway. His lips were soft, the sparks palpable. Everything else melted away.

 

*

 

He watched her climb her front steps, a smug smile growing on her lips when she twisted her head toward him.

“Good night, Steve.”

Steve floated on a cloud all the way back to his room, glazed eyes looking but not seeing the dark London streets still busy with soldiers milling in and out of various pubs. What a lovely feeling to have a Valentine, he thought to himself. How lovely for it to be Peggy. And for the carefully selected poetry to have gone over so well. Unbelievably well.

"So she kissed you," Bucky stated as soon as Steve walked through the door.

"How'd you know?"

Bucky snorted at Steve’s stricken face, like he had inadvertently revealed a massive state secret. "You've got lipstick on your face."

Steve blushed but didn’t bother to wipe at his face. He didn't mind if Peggy’s mark stayed on him just a little longer.

 

_“Some are baffled, but that one is not--that one knows me._  
_Ah lover and perfect equal,_  
_I meant that you should discover me so by faint indirections,_  
_And I when I meet you mean to discover you by the like in you.”_  
_-excerpt from Among the Multitude by Walt Whitman_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peggy's Valentine is a real one from wartime WWII. I'll post it to my tumblr for reference.


End file.
